


Scarecrow - Shudder

by Nathaniel_Quietly



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 00:47:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16439921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathaniel_Quietly/pseuds/Nathaniel_Quietly
Summary: So for those who havent heard, October is here and we at DC Animated Adventures are teaming up with Nazario Designs to giveaway the complete Batman: The Animated Series on DVD! Chris will draw a villain a day and you just write a short 400-500 word story about that character and you're entered! That simple!Lance and I decided that we wanted to play along as well, even though we're not qualified to win (as we are putting on the contest). Here's my entry for today: Scarecrow! (Check outThe DCAA Facebookfor more information.)





	Scarecrow - Shudder

“Professor Crane? Jonathan Crane?”

Up close, the so-called super-villain looked like a sack of bones piled unceremoniously into a bag of skin. The straightjacket that restrained his thin frame had worn, ragged look, dirty and overused. Crane’s feet were manacled to his chair with links of chain thicker than his own neck. The guards had even put a mask over his mouth, like Hannibal Lecter in that famous scene from Silence of the Lambs.

David Andrew Aster smirked as he entered the Arkham cell. “This is a little much, don’t you think? I just wanted to talk.”

“The accoutrement is for your benefit, I assure you,” Crane said, his voice tinny from the face mask. “You would be the filmmaker, I presume.”

“Uh, yeah,” Aster said, settling into the chair across from Crane. He pulled out a notepad and pen. Crane’s eye fell to the utensil immediately. “So. ‘The Scarecrow.’ I admit, I’m a fan. You do to people in real life what I try to do on film.”

“Yes, yes, the so called ‘scary movie’,” Crane growled. “Those films are nothing of the sort. There’s no art to them. It’s all split second fight or flight response to sudden movement and camera trickery. How many hours of drek have you directed, boy?”

Aster ran a hand through his tangled blonde hair and tried not to feel belittled. He’d been warned Crane was like this. “Well, that’s the thing. I’ve mostly done character dramas up ‘till now. This is my first horror piece.”

“Ah,” Crane said. He appeared to gain a modicum of interest; one eyebrow was now slightly crooked, anyway. “So you’ve found yourself drawn to terror, then. That, I understand. Can I ask what drew you in this direction?”

Aster smiled. This, this was what he was hoping for. This could lead to genuine insight, true inspiration. If he played his cards right, he could be the next Friedkin. “Well sir, drama is always so...melodramatic, for want of a better word. The emotions are all complex, and...like, they knit together, tying into each other. They’re so complex, they come off as false, like the actors are putting on masks. Fear, though...that’s, that’s primal. That’s the core emotion at the heart of every living thing. Fear pulled us out of the sea, stood us upright, got us food and shelter. That’s real.” Aster shrugged. “I want to give my audience reality.”

Crane gave the boy a long look. After a few heartbeats, he nodded, slowly. “Well said,” he breathed. “I would applaud, if I were able. Tell me, though--this primal emotion that so fascinates you. Have you ever truly felt it yourself? HA!”

That last was a loud, echoing laugh that penetrated Aster to his very soul. And it hadn’t sounded like Crane at all.

“I...I’m sorry?” Aster said, as another laugh, this one long and low, seemed to float unbidden through the cell. It wasn’t Crane...who was laughing? Were they laughing at him?  
“You claim you want to show the world fear,” Crane said, his tone dry. “But you don’t know fear. Not yet. It’s lucky for you that I suffused this room with a potent mixture of my best toxin before you came in. You’ be surprised how little money it takes for an Arkham guard to turn a blind eye.”

Aster strained to hear Crane, but he was surrounded. Surrounded by critics, peers, actresses...laughing. At him. At his work. His useless, soulless, corporate hack work. He was a joke. A loser. His films were garbage, assembly-line cookie cutter bull mess destined for the bargain bin at Qmart.

He screamed.


End file.
